


The Fallout

by AVRenegade



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake AH Crew, Relationships Implied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-13 21:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14756918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVRenegade/pseuds/AVRenegade
Summary: The Fake AH Crew are at the height of their career, lead by notorious crime boss Geoff Ramsey of the legendary Roosters, and they're about to pull off the heist of the century, the Strauss Museum heist. Everything is going exactly as planned until an explosion goes off too soon, just in time to kill Geoff.The Fakes are thrown, and the joy of the heist is cut short. The Fakes retreat to a safe house in the hills to deal with the fallout of the Kingpin's death. But can the Fakes keep it together without their leader?





	1. Family

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt, which contains spoilers so I'll post it at the end.  
> Also inspired by the song Family by Mother Mother, which I highly recommend listening to!

The sun blazed down, baking the city of Los Santos. Heat rose from the pavement, the air hazy. Sirens blared as police cars raced through the streets, chasing a hideously coloured X80 proto. The orange and purple paint gleamed in the evening light, a sunset driving through the streets. The driver grinned, all smiles as he glanced over to the passenger window, where his buddy hung out the window, faced backwards towards the oncoming cars, his gleeful face hidden by his dark skull mask. The driver let out a loud whoop as the other man slid back into the car, leaning behind the seats. Sliding his mask on top of his head, he searched through the darkness. The driver steered them zig zag through the streets, weaving between cars, shoving the car through too-narrow alleys, before leading the police behind him on a long, straight stretch. His passenger, having found what he was looking for, sat himself on the edge of the car window, half standing as he faced down half the Los Santos police force. He pulled a long cylinder from the car and placed it over his shoulder. He didn’t bother to pull his mask down, giving the leading car a perfect view of his face, before he fired the rocket, blowing up the line of cars in a chain reaction.

-

“In other news, the dynamic duo known as the ‘Battle Buddies’ consisting of notorious assassin, the Vagabond, and his partner, Rimmy Tim, wreaked havoc in downtown Los Santos today. Their motive is still unknown, as nothing has been reported stolen, and no civilians were harmed. It is still unclear how the incident even began. Here’s Detective Harrison to tell us what they know.” The TV clicked off, the remote pointed accusatorily at the screen. The man who held it had his other hand on his hip, his eyes wild.

“What were you guys thinking?” The man screeched, his handlebar moustache bristling as he waved the remote around. “You just had to lay low for one more day!” His voice got higher with every word and he threw the remote at the couch, looking less like the leader of the notorious Fake AH Crew, and more like an upset dad scolding two overgrown children, who didn’t look at all sorry.

“Ah Geoff, don’t worry about it! We were just having some fun.” The Vagabond pulled off his skull mask, grinning.  
“Yeah, we didn’t even _really_ do anything other than blow up the cops.” Rimmy Tim nudged the Vagabond, smirking. “Ryan here just wanted to try out his new toy.”

“It doesn’t matter you morons! They’ll be watching us now, because your stupid faces are all over the TV!” Geoff screamed, his voice cracking. He put his head in his hands.

“Technically, Rimmy Tim’s face is all over the TV. Jeremy is a law-abiding citizen.” Jeremy tossed his orange and purple jacket on the couch before collapsing on top of it. “Don’t worry Geoff, everything’s going to be fine.” He slid his hands behind his head and leaned back against the couch, a satisfied smile on his face as Geoff emitted a series of annoyed noises before storming off to his room.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that Ryan, you like winding him up as much as I do.” Ryan rolled his eyes before moving to sit next to Jeremy on the couch.

“Okay, look. He doesn’t like me as much. It bothers him way more when you do it.” He reached for the remote, turning the TV on and flipping through the channels. “The poor man just wants you to like him.”

“I do like him! I’d never tell him that, but I do.” Jeremy insisted. “And if you tell him I’ll kick your ass.” Ryan smirked at this, looking Jeremy up and down, one eyebrow cocked.

“Yeah. Okay, short stack.” Jeremy huffed at this, whacking Ryan with a pillow before standing up and stomping off. “I’m kidding!” Ryan called after him, not moving from the couch. “Wouldn’t tell him anyway.” He said at the TV, settling on the _Addam’s Family Values_ movie. He’d watched it after his infamous argument with Gavin, having still not believed that there was a kid named Pubert in the movie, and found that he’d enjoyed the movie. He enjoyed being wrong less, especially when being wrong meant that Gavin was right.

“But Michael, it’d be so cool Michael!” Speak of the devil. Ryan quickly switched the tv off, looking over his shoulder.

“Absolutely not.” Ryan recognized Michael’s voice, fake anger hiding amusement. “Where would we get the bikes?” Michael walked into the living room, a pleading Gavin at his heels, a poorly concealed grin on his face.

“Ah don’t worry about it!” Gavin waved his hand, dismissing the concern.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but don’t! Low! Profile!” Geoff’s voice was muffled by the door. “I’ll kick somebody’s ass! I don’t care whose!” Michael rolled his eyes, flopping onto the couch next to Ryan.

“Man, this heist has sucked all the fun out of being criminals.” Gavin threw himself on top of Michael, promptly getting thrown to the floor with a not entirely unamused ‘get off!’.

“Speak for yourselves. It only takes the fun out if you actually listen to Geoff.” Ryan said. “The Battle Buddies had a mission this morning. A mission of fun!” As he grinned, Gavin shivered a bit. He often forgot just how unsettling Ryan’s smile could be. He stood up quickly, heading around the couch and into the kitchen.

“I’m getting a bloody beer.”

“Get me one!” Michael called after him. “And go get Jeremy, we’ll play Mario Party.” Ryan groaned and tried to stand up to leave, but Michael caught his arm and pulled him back down. “Man, Gavin, Ryan’s so excited about this! Hurry up and get Lil’ J so we can start!”

“Okay, alright, calm down.” Gavin’s voice receded.

“Why even bother playing, you always win.” Ryan crossed his arms and raised his shoulders to his ears, looking like an upset child. Michael rolled his eyes.

“You won the last two times Ryan, come on. Stop being a baby or I’ll call Geoff out here.” Michael said, grinning as Ryan’s frown deepened.

“Don’t start any games right now, we gotta make dinner.” Michael looked over the back of couch to see the Jack in the kitchen, unloading groceries.

“Aww man.” Michael slumped down on the couch. “Already told Gavin to get Jeremy.” He mumbled into his chest.

“Good, then you guys can make dinner. Gavin and I need to run out to take care of one last thing for the heist. It was supposed to be Gavin and Ryan, but someone decided to get themselves on the news, so now I have to leave dinner in the hands of you idiots.” Jack looked at Ryan, who looked back, eyes wide.

“Whatever do you mean? The only people on the news are Rimmy Tim and the Vagabond.”

“Just go get Geoff.” Ryan stood up and sauntered off towards Geoff’s room. “Michael, get over here and start chopping onions. We’re having soup and fish and chips.”

“Mario Party!” Gavin came running into the living room, launching himself towards the couch. Jeremy trailed behind him, scrolling through his phone.

“Nope!” Jack’s voice was cheery as he left Michael in the kitchen. “Come on Gavin, Team Trial and Error’s gotta make one last supply run before tomorrow.” Gavin’s head popped up over the couch.

“I thought it was supposed to be Rye-bread and me?”

“It was going to be, until this afternoon happened. Now it’s us. And we gotta take care of it before dinner so we can finalize the plan after dinner.” Jack grabbed Gavin’s jacket from the kitchen table and threw it at him. “Jeremy, you’re helping with dinner. Gavin, let’s go.” Jack walked out the door, Gavin by his side.

-

The streets were jampacked with rush hour traffic when Jack and Gavin stepped out of the skyscraper that was Geoff’s house. Jack nodded at the motorbike with far too many mirrors leaned haphazardly against the building. Gavin pulled his keys out, tossing them to Jack before wrestling the bike onto the street. Jack straddled the bike and Gavin slid on behind him, holding on to his waist, Jack’s shirt scrunched in his hands. He slid his sunglasses out of his pocket and onto his face, nodding at Jack, who took off, weaving Gavin’s horrendous bike between the cars. Cars honked angrily at them as they passed by, a little too close for comfort. Jack pulled the bike up in front of a small warehouse. Gavin hopped off, taking the keys from Jack and leaning the bike down on the ground. They made their way around the back of the building, to a reinforced steel door. The door swung open as Gavin knocked on it. They looked at each other, brows furrowed, hands reaching for their guns. Jack pulled his gun out, motioning for Gavin to follow him, and they crept through the door.

The warehouse was empty, save for three boxes stacked in the middle, a single light bulb hanging above them. Jack groaned a bit, letting his gun hang by his side. Gavin approached the boxes, sizing them up. There was no way they would be able to haul them back. The smallest box was half the size of Gavin, and the largest was bigger than Jack. Gavin ignored Jack’s groan, grinning at him instead, raising his eyebrows. Jack rolled his eyes, but his mouth betrayed him, and he smiled back at Gavin before leading him out of the warehouse. They ran across the street, into the Maze Bank. Jack glanced down at his watch before showing it to Gavin, who nodded. Jack headed for the elevator, and Gavin slipped into an unmarked door. Keeping an eye on his phone, Gavin made his way down a hall towards the security room. There was only one security guard inside, headphones in, sat at the desk in front of the wall of screens. He wasn’t even watching them. Gavin shook his head, smirking. He slipped inside, pulling his gun from his waistband and slamming the butt of it into the guard’s head. The guard crumpled under the force and slid from the chair onto the ground.

Gavin sat in the oversized chair in front of the monitors, pulling his phone out.

_Guard down. Monitoring the cameras._

He looked back up at the screens, where he saw Jack slip into the stairwell, making his way up to the roof.

_Hurry. Two minutes._

Jack hurried up the stairs before reaching a door. He bent down, pulling out a small wallet from his pocket. As Jack picked the lock to the roof, Gavin looped footage from earlier in the day, erasing their presence from the bank. When he looked back at the monitor, Jack had made it onto the roof, where a cargobob sat. Gavin watched as Jack knocked out the pilot and dumped him on the roof before flying across the street. Gavin finished looping the footage and made his way out of the bank and across the street. Gavin hauled the boxes out of the warehouse and attached them to the hovering cargobob.

_All good. Meet you at home._

-

“Ryan threw my onion away!”

“We don’t need an onion, there’s no room for onions here!”

“I need a plate, someone get me a plate!”

“Geoff, there’s a plate right in front of you.”

“The pot’s hot I need a plate!”

“There’s one right in front of you! Geoff!”

“I wanted onion soup Ryan!”

“I’m a fish and chips man, take your onions elsewhere!”

“What the hell is going on here?” They all froze at the sound of Jack’s voice. Geoff had a steaming pot of soup, Ryan and Michael were halfway through starting a food fight, and Jeremy was shoving a plate at Geoff. Gavin peered around Jack at the others, a grin on his face. They all looked at each other before exploding into a wall of accusations and finger pointing.

“Alright, enough! Let’s just get dinner on the table.”

The kitchen was a whirl of activity as Jack took over, barking orders at the others. Dinner finally made it on the table, with only a few arguments, and the Fakes sat down, Geoff at the head of the table, and dug in.

“How was the supply run?”

“Geoff, it was right fun, Geoff.” Gavin said through a mouthful of chips. “Wish you’d told us it was so big, we took the Faggio.”

“The Faggio? That piece of shit?” Geoff rolled his eyes. “You can barely move yourselves on that thing. God.”

“Ay, that things reliable! It’s been with me since you hired me!” Gavin defended his bike. “Reminds me of home.”

“Wow your home must be real shit Gav.” Michael said, waving his fork around. “That bike is garbage.” Gav squawked at him, offended.

Ryan waved his hand at the two of them. “Guys, guys. We all know England’s shit. Let’s focus. We have a heist to pull off.” He grinned, rubbing his hands together and leaning forward in his seat. “Let’s clear this shit off and get to heistin’!”

-

The Fakes gathered around a table, blueprints, maps, file folders, and photos spread out in front of them, a jumbled mess to the untrained eye. Geoff pinned a map up to a corkboard behind him, alongside a slew of photos and a blueprint. The others stared intently at the map as Geoff traced routes on the map, marking the teams and their jobs, confirming that everyone was prepared. The restless excitement from the day had fizzed out, the seriousness of the heist settling on the Fake’s shoulders. Geoff tossed a file at each of them, before waving a hand, dismissing them. The crew dissipated, wandering off to various points of the penthouse. Geoff sat at the table, staring down at the plans. It was now, or never.


	2. Run Boy Run

The sun was sinking below the horizon as three cars raced toward the Strauss museum, a motorcycle following behind. The cars split, two sliding into a parking lot rear the Strauss museum with the motorcycle, the other jamming itself into the alley beside the Maze Bank across the street. Ryan slid off the bike, meeting up with Jeremy, Michael, and Gavin. They all wore tuxes, hair combed neat, or as neat as they could make it in Michael’s case, with bow ties hiding mics. Gavin grabbed a backpack from Michael’s car and they snuck around the back of the museum, Gavin bouncing in excitement, holding a grappling hook.

“Team Lads plus Vagabond is in position.” Jeremy said, nodding at Gavin, who fired the grappling hook at the roof. He swung from it to make sure it held.

_“Okay, Team OG in position. Scaling the bank now.”_ Geoff’s voice came over the comms, and they began to climb. Jeremy and Ryan split off, slipping through a small window on the second floor into a bathroom, as Michael and Gavin continued to the roof. They set up by the vent, Michael watching over Gavin’s shoulder as he pulled his laptop out and finished the hack into the security system.

“First system hacked.” He pulled another laptop out of the backpack and started another hack.

“You have to have different laptops for this?” Michael asked. Gavin nodded in reply. “Why?”

“Michael, I gotta focus Michael.” Michael rolled his eyes and turned so his back was leaning against Gavin’s. Michael watched as the sun finally disappeared below the distant horizon, glinting off a few buildings as it slipped into the sea. The city lit up as lights flicked on in buildings and streetlights flickered on. Michael smiled slightly as he looked over their city.

“Gavin my boi. We own this town.” Gavin typed out a few last commands before closing the laptop and turning around, hugging Michael.

“Sure do, boi.” He grabbed his backpack and slid the laptops away, keeping his phone out, where the security feeds were broadcast to. “Both systems hacked. Team Nice Dynamite ready to enter.”

_“Battle Buddies are ready to enter as well. Please. This bathroom smells terrible.”_

_“Alright, Team OG is in position. Go ahead.”_ Michael and Gavin slid down into the air vent, Gavin leading them from the blueprints on his phone until they reached a broom closet. Gavin jumped down out of the air vent and froze until Michael jumped on top of him.

“Hey idiot, why didn’t you move!” Michael smacked Gavin lightly before looking up, directly into the face of a startled security guard, who started reaching for a red button. Michael snapped to, grabbing the guard’s arm, twisting it up behind his back. Michael kneed him, just below his twisted arm, slamming him into the wall. He grabbed the guard’s head and slammed it into the wall before letting him slump to the floor, unconscious. “What the fuck?” Michael turned to Gavin.

“The blueprints said this was a broom closet Michael! I don’t know!” Gavin held his hands up in defense. Michael shook his head.

“Whatever doesn’t matter now. Let’s get out of here.” Michael grabbed Gavin’s hand and led him out into the hallway. “Battle Buddies, you guys make it to the gala?”

_“Uh, not yet. We’re lost. Vagabond here doesn’t know how to read a blueprint.”_

_“Yes, I do, I followed it. The blueprint is wrong! Why don’t you try to read it? Oh wait, Rimmy couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag!”_

_“I was drunk! And it wasn’t a paper bag, it was a giant plastic tarp you wrapped me in!”_

“Guys. The blueprint’s wrong, Gavin fucked up.” Michael dragged Gavin behind him, trying to find the stairwell.

“Michael!” Gavin squawked at him.

“Shut up, this is your fault. Should’ve checked your sources.”

_“We found the stairwell. Meet you downstairs in a bit.”_

-

The Battle Buddies slipped seamlessly into the party, Ryan sliding his arm over Jeremy’s shoulders, handing him a glass of champagne.

“Let’s find these paintings. If Gavin’s intel about the layout of this museum was wrong, the paintings are probably somewhere else as well.” Jeremy nodded, leaning into Ryan’s side.

“They’re supposed to be in the next room, because this is the one with the window facing Maze.” Jeremy slid his arm around Ryan’s waist, and they strolled casually through the crowd, all smiles and warm greetings to anyone who talked to them. Once in the next room, they both breathed a small sigh of relief to see the three paintings hanging exactly where they were supposed to. A small crowd milled around them, gazing in awe.

The paintings were recently recovered, as they had originally gone missing during World War II during Nazi raids. They had fortunately escaped destruction, only because the Nazis managed to misplace them. Or so the story goes. The history of the three paintings is mysterious and clouded in controversy, and some claim that they carry a curse. Utter nonsense of course, but the controversy and rarity of the art drove the value through the roof, meaning they were now worth about three hundred million dollars each.

Jeremy stood in awe, eyes full of stars, in front of the paintings. Ryan looked down at him, smiling. “Maybe we don’t sell all of them. Maybe we keep one.”

Jeremy snapped his head to look at Ryan. “We can’t. They’re worth more as a set.” Ryan could see the sadness in his eyes. Jeremy wanted them.

“Ehhh, whatever. We pull off the heist, we get the fame, who needs that much money anyway.” Ryan waved his hand.

“No, we gotta sell them all. I can’t screw the team like that.” Jeremy looked back at the paintings. “Besides, they’re cursed.” Jeremy wiggled his fingers at Ryan, laughing. Ryan grinned and led Jeremy away, keeping him close.

“Let’s go find the back room.” Ryan whispered to Jeremy, who nodded, and they slipped out of the room, just as Gavin and Michael finally made it down the stairs. They strolled into the crowd, Gavin easily plastering on a smile, schmoozing his way through the crowd, laughing and blending effortlessly. Michael shuffled along behind him dutifully, doing his best to look somewhat friendly.

_“Team Nice Dynamite in place.”_

_“Battle Buddies in place.”_

_“Alpha One in place.”_

_“Alpha Two ready. Blow it.”_

The twelfth floor of the Maze Bank exploded, fire blazing out of the windows.

“Oh my god! The bank’s exploded!” Gavin pointed out the window, his voice spurring the crowd to run to the wall-sized window facing the bank. The guards followed suit, abandoning posts as they rushed to the window, already calling 911. Michael hovered around the back, ready to turn any stragglers to the window. Gavin was at the front, doing what he did best – freaking out. Michael glanced over his shoulder to see the Battle Buddies carrying three boxes out of the stairs and into the adjacent room.

The Battle Buddies placed the boxes on the ground, moving swiftly to swap the false paintings from the boxes with the real ones on the wall. Jeremy stepped back to admire his handiwork as Ryan secured the paintings in the boxes. The paintings were similar enough that it would take time to arouse suspicion, but upon closer inspection would reveal differences pointing to the Fake AH Crew, including Rimmy Tim’s signature in the corner. Ryan placed his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, smiling at him.

Gavin glanced back at Michael, giving him a wide smile. Michael grinned back, watching the flames lick at the bank as sirens roared in the distance.

_“I’ve lost Geoff.”_ Gavin’s smiled dropped instantly, as did Michaels. _“His comm went dark when the bomb went off.”_ Michael whirled around to see the Battle Buddies, frozen halfway out the door, eyes wide. He waved at them, mouthing _GO, GO._ They snapped to, hurrying down the stairs. Michael turned back to Gavin, who was staring at the fire, his fear real now.

“I’m on the way. Gavin, go with Ryan to the airport.” Michael sprinted out the door, leaving Gavin behind. He sprinted across the street, behind the building next to the bank to avoid the prying eyes across the street. He turned and ran into the bank, running up the stairs, fighting through the smoke. “Jack, where are you?” Code names had gone out the window.

“I’m running down the stairs. Elevator’s shut down because of the fire.” Michael rounded the final flight of stairs, stopping short of the door to the twelfth floor. He could hear Jack a few floors above him. He pulled his undershirt over his mouth, taking a deep breath, before kicking the door in. There was nothing but flame in front of him. If Geoff was in there…

Jack ran up beside him, stopping just shy of running directly into the fire. He held a fire extinguisher. Before Michael could stop him, Jack ran in, spraying the fire extinguisher at the growing flames. Michael stared helplessly through the door, the flames slightly less. A few seconds later, Jack burst out of the flames, dragging a charred body, silver army ID tags around its neck. Michael’s heart fell. Jack dropped the body in front of Michael, who bent down and examined the dog tags.

   RAMSEY

   GEOFF L.

   735-16-7238

   O NEG

   NO PREFERENCE

Michael sat down, face blank. He shook his head when Jack looked at him. Jack carefully lifted the ID tags off Geoff’s body before holding his hand out to Michael.

“Come on. The police will be here soon.” Michael took his hand, letting Jack pull him to his feet, and he followed him out of the bank.

-

“Gavin, let go of me and go with Ryan!” Jeremy shook Gavin off, who was clinging to his arm.

“But Jeremy, we can’t go! We have to find out if Geoff is okay!” Ryan took Gavin’s hand, pulling Gavin to him.

“He’ll be the same amount of okay if we’re here or at the airport. We, however, will be less okay if we stay here.” Gavin hung his head and followed Ryan to his bike, climbing on behind him.

“I’ll see you guys at the safe house. I’m turning off my comms to meet with the buyer.” Jeremy placed the boxes in the trunk of his car, waving to the other two as they sped off into the night. He slammed the trunk closed and slid into the driver’s seat of his car, leaning his head against the bright orange steering wheel, tears blurring his vision. He clenched his fists, biting his lip, holding back a scream. He tasted blood. He furiously wiped his eyes, starting the car. The radio blared at him and Jeremy punched it. The drive into the mountains was silent, save for the faint sirens Jeremy left behind.

He parked the car next to the black sports car on the mountain side. The cliff was dangerously close. Jeremy eyed it. He slid his sunglasses down, masking his red eyes. He stalked over to the other car, banging on the window. A tall man slipped out. Jeremy scoffed at his suit, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You got the paintings?” Jeremy nodded, leading the man to his trunk. The man opened the trunk, nodded at them, turned around and pushed a gun into Jeremy’s chest. “Thanks kid.”

Jeremy’s eyes flashed behind his glasses, grabbing the man’s wrist and spinning around, the gun balanced over his shoulder, facing the cliff. Jeremy flipped the man over, slamming him onto his back, before kicking him. The man tried to get up, turn his gun on Jeremy, but found his face broken, bruised, and bloody as Jeremy slammed his fist down. Jeremy grabbed him, dragging him over to the cliff. He threw the man down, his head hanging over the precipice. Jeremy pressed his knee into his chest, leaning down so his face was inches from the other man’s.

“You picked a bad day to kill me.” Jeremy pulled his gun from his waistband, holding it to the man’s forehead, his face stone. “Where’s the money?” The man’s eyes were wide as he struggled against Jeremy’s weight.

“There’s some in the trunk. It’s locked.” Jeremy dug his knee in deeper.

“The key.” The man pulled a key ring out of his pocket and threw it on the ground away from them. Jeremy grinned.

“Thanks.” He pulled the man halfway off the ground. “Not enough to save you though.” Jeremy said before shoving him over the edge of the cliff. He stood up, grabbing the keys and striding over to the sports car, unlocking the trunk. He opened the briefcase, glancing over the money. It didn’t look like quite enough, but it didn’t matter now. He had the paintings and the money. He flicked his comm on.

“Any news guys?” His voice wavered.

_“He’s dead. Jeremy, he-“_ Jeremy flipped his comm back off. He tossed the briefcase in his passenger seat. He sat on the hood of his car, facing the cliff, looking over the city. He ripped his comm out of his ear, throwing it over the edge. He didn’t move until sunrise.

As the sun rose, he slipped back into his car, driving back down the mountain. He drove through Los Santos, glancing briefly at the ruined floor of the Maze Bank. He kept driving, straight out of Los Santos, away from the safe house. Away from all he’d known for the last five years.


	3. Only Human

When Gavin and Ryan pulled into the driveway, the safehouse was dark, despite the chrome adder sat outside. Gavin clutched at Ryan’s jacket, tears slicking the back. Ryan let them sit there a bit, before nudging Gavin so he would slide off the bike. Ryan followed suit, grabbing Gavin and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Their comms had been silent on the drive over.

_No news is good news._ Ryan had chanted in his head, over and over, willing himself to believe it. The darkened safehouse tore down the weak wall of confidence Ryan had built for himself. He buried his face in Gavin’s hair. Gavin’s tears wet Ryan’s shirt. After a few minutes like that, Ryan grabbed Gavin’s hand and they walked into the house.

Michael and Jack were sat around the kitchen table, lightly illuminated by the stove light. Geoff’s dog tags lay in the center of the table. Michael’s face was blank, but his cheeks were wet, memories of tears. Jack’s face was broken, eyes red and full of tears. Ryan moved over to Jack, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. Gavin barreled into Michael, who made no protest, simply letting him onto his lap, burrowing his head into Michael’s chest.

They sat there for several hours, as the sun rose, bathing the kitchen in a soft golden light. No one had spoken a word since arriving until Ryan finally cracked his mouth open.

“Where’s Jeremy?” He stood up, walking to the window. “He should have been here by now.” Gavin lifted his head from Michael’s chest where he’d dozed off, blinking.

“Lil’ J?” His eyes grew wide. “Do you think…” Gavin trailed off staring at Ryan.

“No. I’m sure Jeremy’s fine. Just held up. I’ll call him.”

-

Jeremy drove until the sun rose. He found himself in a small town, run down and empty. The town was still asleep. He parked in front of the diner. His phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, staring down at the screen, where Ryan’s number and ridiculous contact picture blinked on the screen. Jeremy jabbed at the decline button, before throwing the phone into the backseat. He glanced at the briefcase next to him. His gut wrenched with guilt as he thought about the crew. If Geoff was gone, and he was gone with the money, he’d added insult to injury. But maybe Geoff wasn’t gone. He’d never know either way. His phone buzzed again from the backseat at the same time a waiter came and flipped the closed sign over on the diner. He ignored the ringing call, grabbing his wallet and heading into the diner.

After a hearty meal, Jeremy climbed back into his car, driving out of the town and back onto the highway. The desert stretched in front of him. His phone buzzed in the backseat.

-

“He declined the first call. That means he’s not dead.” Jack reassured Gavin.

“Then why isn’t he answering! He hasn’t even heard about Geoff!” Gavin protested, pacing around the living room. They’d moved from the kitchen after attempting breakfast, leaving several half full cereal bowls on the counter. Michael sat next to Jack on the couch. Ryan had gone out to try to find Jeremy.

“Maybe he found out himself after the deal. Maybe he’s just back in Los Santos, in shock.” Jack patted the couch next to him. “Come sit down. Pacing won’t do anything.” Gavin paced a few more times before finally resigning himself to the couch, collapsing between Michael and Jack, leaning his head against Michael’s. There was a long silence.

“What are we going to do without Geoff?” Michael finally asked.

“He can’t be dead, Michael! He can’t be. He’ll come back, right?” Gavin looked at Michael desperately. Jack placed a hand on his shoulder as Michael shook his head.

“No. Gavin. He’s gone. There was no one else that could be.” Michael stood up, knocking Gavin’s head away from him. “I’m going for a ride. I’ll be back.”

Michael strode out of the house, climbing into his Adder. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the steering wheel. After a couple minutes he started the car and pulled out of the driveway. He drove out into the desert.

-

“Hey kid. Calm down.” A hot-headed curly haired kid seethed with rage, standing over a group of muggers, their faces beat in and bloody. Geoff reached a hand over, carefully placing his hand on the kid’s shoulders.

“Hey! Fuck off.” The kid batted his hand off, whirling around. His shoulders were shaking and his voice hissed at Geoff. “I fucking got this.”

“Clearly.” Geoff held his hands up in front of him. “That’s why I want to offer you a job.” Geoff leaned against the brick building making up one wall of the alley. “You’re pretty infamous in Los Santos, kid. That rage causes a lot of destruction.” The kid shifted, still glaring at Geoff.

“Yeah, so?” Geoff laughed.

“So, Mogar, I want you to join my crew.” Mogar looked Geoff over. Handlebar moustache and wrinkled tuxedo, his eyes tired, he didn’t look much like the leader of a crew.

“And what crew is that?” Mogar growled at Geoff.

“Well, it’s an up-and-coming crew. But it’s gonna be big. Unlike any other crew. The Fake AH Crew.” Mogar squinted at Geoff.

“What’s the AH stand for?” Geoff extended a hand to Mogar.

“Why don’t you join, and find out?” He met Mogar’s eyes.

-

Michael didn’t stop until he found a mountain. The sun was getting low in the sky. He got out of his car, slamming the door behind him and began to climb. The sun set as he reached the top, and the stars came out, more than he’d seen in a long time. Michael stretched out on the sandy ground, hands behind his head. He stared up into the sky, the stars spinning slowly above him. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a flask. Geoff’s old one. The Fake’s logo was crudely etched onto it. Geoff had done it himself one night, drunk off his ass. He’d given it to Michael a couple months ago. Michael brought it to his lips, the metal warm from his body heat.

Michael drank until his head spun, his vision blurring the stars, his body radiating heat. He tucked his jacket under his head and fell asleep, and dreams of Geoff swum through his head.

-

Gavin watched the door, waiting for Michael’s return. Jack brought him food for dinner, sitting with him as they ate in silent. Once the sun had set, Jack patted Gavin on the back.

“We better get to bed. They’ll all be back in the morning.” Gavin hung his head.

“I don’t understand. Why would they leave. We already lost Geoff, now they’re going to leave, too!” Jack pulled Gavin into a hug.

“They’ll be back. They’re just processing. It’ll be okay.” Jack said, reassuring himself as much as he was Gavin. “Let’s just go to bed. I bet they’ll be back by the morning.”

They weren’t, though. Gavin woke up to an empty bed, the other side unslept on. He dragged himself out of bed and padded into the kitchen, where Jack sat at the table, looking as though he hadn’t slept.

“Any word?” Gavin said, sitting across from Jack, who nodded his head.

“Got a text from Ryan last night after you went to sleep. He hasn’t found Jeremy. No sign in Los Santos, and no one has seen him or the buyer since they were supposed to meet.”

-

Ryan left the bike sprawled on the ground outside Geoff’s house. His adrenaline carried him up the stairs to the penthouse, where he burst through the door, hand on his knife. There were no sounds, no intruders, and more importantly, no Jeremy. Ryan lowered his knife slightly, stalking through the house, checking each room. Ryan peered out a front-facing window, scanning the streets below. The security footage had showed that Jeremy hadn’t been there since the heist. Ryan slumped against the window, calling Jeremy again. He let time pass, staring at his phone, willing it to ring.

Eventually he stood up, the empty penthouse finally getting to him. His mask was still on his face, which was drenched in sweat. Ryan pulled his jacket off, letting it fall to the ground. He tossed his mask on top of it before making his way to the bathroom. His face paint was smeared from the sweat, most of it likely on the inside of his mask. He dragged his hand across his face, smearing the rest of the make-up. He stared into his eyes until he grew angry, punching the mirror, his hand shattering the glass and his skin. He ignored the pain and the blood that was now seeping down his hand in favour of a box of hair dye perched next to the sink. He’d bought in ages ago, used half of it to prank Gavin. He grabbed it now, pulling his hair out of its ponytail.

An hour later his hair was sopping wet, black dye covering the sandy brown. He wiped the rest of his face paint off to see where the dye had stained his face. He’d done a shoddy job, and the dye made his face seem gaunt, skull-like.

Ryan tossed his mask into his room as he passed by it, heading to the living room and turning the TV on.

_NOTORIOUS CRIME BOSS GEOFF RAMSEY FOUND DEAD IN LOS SANTOS_

He turned the TV off by throwing the remote at it. Standing up, he pulled his wet hair into a pony tail before striding out the front door, not bothering with his mask or jacket. He took his bike, driving out to the Maze Bank, which was still surrounded by cops. He stood straddling his bike a block away, examining it. No way Jeremy could have come back here without getting arrested. Which meant he hadn’t. Jeremy wasn’t dumb. Ryan drove away from the bank, up towards Chilliad, where he parked at the base. He looked up, where Jeremy was supposed to meet the buyer. Ryan should have been with him. They should have stuck to the plan.

Ryan began searching beneath the meeting site, swallowing the growing fear in his stomach.

_He declined the first call._ He tried to reassure himself.

_But someone could have taken his phone._ He shook himself, searching through the brush a little faster. His heart dropped when he saw a body. He rushed over to it, dropping to his knees next to it. He sighed with relief. It wasn’t Lil’ J. Ryan turned it over, ignoring the head as it flopped over, neck snapped. He searched the man’s pockets, finding an empty wallet, a burner phone, and car keys. Probably the man Jeremy was meeting with. Ryan took the keys and walked back to his bike. He drove up the mountain to the ledge, where he found a black sports car with the trunk open. He carefully approached it, checking the dirt for tracks. It had been windy the night before, and the sand was smooth over the hard ground. There were, however, still car tread tracks, leading away from the site. Ryan kicked his bike into gear, following them.

-

Jeremy startled awake, drenched in sweat, his head pounding. He swung his feet over the side of the motel bed and sat up, leaving a Jeremy-sized sweat puddle on the bed. He rubbed his eyes, clearing dreams of Geoff and the crew from his head. He kicked away beer bottles from the night before, shoving his clothes on. He grabbed his wallet, the briefcase, and the paintings as he walked out the door. He shoved the paintings and briefcase in the trunk, dropped the key in the office, and drove off. He was halfway across America, miles away from Los Santos. He’d been driving for days, wandering around, town to town. It wasn’t until a few towns ago that he’d decided where to go.

_To: Bragg_

_I’m coming home. Get the team back together._

 


End file.
